


Socio

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crime, Death, Drama, Footballer Louis, Murder, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Psychotic Harry, Self-Harm, Sociopathic Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:32:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Harry is a sociopath; he feels nothing that most people would. That's why he can easily murder people, innocent people, and feel no guilt or worry or anything. He decides before leaving high school he will perform the biggest murder spree of them all. Making friends, causing them to trust him, he plans to give them the biggest shock of their short lives. Louis Tomlinson, though, makes Harry's plan difficult; his blue eyes distracting Harry and making his sociopathic personality falter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm warning you that I am only writing this because I'm bored and trying to improve my writing. I know this will suck and such, but I'm honestly just writing this for the hell of it.
> 
> So, I'm not promising a happy or sad ending. I'm just going to go with it.

Harry sits, running the tip of the ever so sharp knife against his porcelain white skin, watching, fascinated, as it is followed by the trail of bright crimson blood. He scrapes the edge of the knife over the newly mutilated skin, piling the blood on the metallic blade. He lifts it eye level and examines it, enjoying the hardly-there smell of iron. He lowers it, finally, and wipes the liquid on his black pants, knowing the dark night sky will cover and evidence.

He closes the blade, shoving it in his pocket, and places his hand over the self inflicted wound. He exhales deeply before instructing his body to produce tears; it instantly follows his instructions. Tears, salty and fat, begin to flow from his eyes almost magically, yet no emotion is causing them. Harry was always fond of his ability to act so well. 

He starts walking, leaving his comforting, isolated seat on the rotted wood of a park bench. He starts running, and takes his hand, now covered in blood, wiping it all over his arm, making it look as if he were truly harmed. He begins to force himself to shout as if in pain when he see's people, a family of three, in the distance, illuminated by the fluorescent glow of the moon lit sky.

The wife turns, mortified by the sight of a young teenager in all black, arm covered in his own blood. She tugs her husband's sleeve, still watching Harry as he trips over his own feet, his tears blurring his vision.

"H-Help!" Harry shouts, giving himself a mental note to add more pain to his voice next time. The man turns and spots Harry; he immediately hands his child, a baby, to his wife and begins to run for Harry.

"What's happened, son?!" The man shouts, speeding as Harry lets himself fall to the ground. Harry mentally scoffs, for the man is not his father and has no right to call Harry his son. Harry plans to make the man, the idiotic man, pay the most painful death of his family.

"I-I've b-een stabbed," Harry groans out, fakely produced emotion bleeding through his vocal cords. The man crouches beside Harry, gripping his hand with such ease as if he were afraid of harming Harry more. If only the man knew that he would be the one to be harmed, maybe he would be more cautious about who he helps on the street.

"Let me see," the man demands. Harry lets out a shriek when the man attempts to pull his hand off of the wound, and that's all it takes for the man to help Harry to his feet, his arm wrapped tightly around Harry's middle with Harry's arm gripping his shoulder. 

"We're taking you to a hospital," the man informs, quickly followed by a shout to his wife of, "get the car!"

The woman is openly horrified, burying her child's face into her shoulder. She easily makes her way through the park, the cold night air chilling each person to the bone. Her feet carry her and the baby to a small car. Harry guesses it's a poor family, just making it by. He figures they're stubborn, refusing help from other family members. Maybe if they were smarter, Harry thinks, they wouldn't be in the situation they are in.

When the man gets Harry to the car, he begins speeding to the nearest hospital. The game is on, Harry thinks. Knows, actually.

"Wait," Harry says, edging off of the hurt in his voice. The man doesn't move his eyes from the road, but the woman falters, waiting for Harry to speak.

"T-Take me to m-y house," Harry says. The man only shakes his head and announces, "we're getting you to a hospital!"

"My mom is a d-octor, she can h-elp me better than a h-ospi-tal."

The man finally agrees after a moments thought. Harry is convinces they are idiots. Harry gives them the address, instructing them as they go. When they arrive at a small building, definitely not a house, the man and woman examine the place, leaving Harry unwatched. He takes the opportunity to reach into his coat, pulling an even larger knife from a pocket hidden under the black cloth. 

The wife first, he thinks. When the woman turns to speak, Harry leans forward and easily wraps the knife around her, gliding it across her neck with ease. Only a small scream is let out before she's dropping her baby into the floorboard and gripping her now bleeding neck. The husband is already reaching for Harry with a scream when Harry pushes out of the car. Before the man can get out or drive off, Harry quickly opens the wife's door, yanking her out with such force that it causes her bleeding to worsen.

"Please," the man pleads, getting out of the car; the baby left forgotten.

Harry gives the man one devious grin before slashing the wife's throat once more, with more force, leaving her bleeding and dead.

The man cries out, turning on his heel to run. Harry is quicker, though, his legs long enough that it only takes a few strides to make his way to the man. He tackles him to the rough concrete of the ground and straddles his torso, the man's hands trapped under Harry's knee's. Harry lifts the knife to his eyes, pushing lightly against the skin below.

"Why?" The man asks, tears now flowing. Harry only lets out a loud cackle, puncturing the man's cheek in the process. He lets out a loud shout, but Harry doesn't bother to care because he's driven them out so far away from other human's that it wouldn't matter if they screamed for hours.

"Well," Harry says, clamping the man's mouth shut so he can speak without interruption. "I can."

Harry begins butchering the man, slicing his arms and legs and torso. The scent of copper filling the area; the crimson liquid staining his hands. He enjoy's it, watching as the last inch of the man's life is taken away. Harry continues cutting, though, once the man is dead. Until he's an unnoticable meat slab with ripped clothes. 

He drags the man, placing him beside his wife. When he looks up the baby is staring at him, still in his cozy floorboard, his eyes bright and blue and curious. The baby, so innocent with no idea of what's just happened, makes Harry think.

He could forget the baby, leaving him (or her) orphaned with parents dead. The most lonely life of them all. Or he could kill the child and take it away from it's horrid life on the planet; the destruction and tears it wont have to suffer through. Harry decides he'd rather let it suffer alone in the world. 

He lights the bodies on fire, drenching them in gasoline before dropping a match onto the lifeless corpses that were moving mere minutes ago. The baby begins to squeal. Harry laughs.

He starts making his way down the street back to his home, cleaning his blade with a pure white rag, soaking it in the crimson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's mother is oblivious to her son's habits. Louis causes Harry stress. Harry begins his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: FirePlaceLou.Tumblr.Com  
> Twitter: @FirePlaceLou_

"Despair fills the city as another tragic murder occurs. Ken and Rachel Burbank were murdered last week on Park Avenue. Their child was found in the car, unharmed. Police have informed us that the murderer remains unidentified, but the search is on. This murder just adds to the list of now  _fourteen_  people in the last four months," Harry listens as the television reporter drones on, repeating the same news he has for the past months on end. To most, it'd be a tiring story; but to Harry, it's a game that has him giving a satisfactory smile of approval. 

His mother enters the kitchen, taking the remote from Harry and flicking the screen off, despite Harry's complaints. 

"I don't want to hear about another murder. Especially not at the breakfast table," she explains, pouring her coffee into the plain white china. Harry doesn't respond and continues eating his cereal, spooning it into his mouth and wiping away the excess milk on his sleeve. 

He wears a long sleeve shirt so there are no questions of the bandaged wound Harry inflicted the week before. He figures it'll take a week or two to heal, tops. He's glad it's mostly scabbed over, seeing as fall break is over and he's headed back to school. He's ready, though, for he has a plan. He thought of it the night he killed the man and woman, walking back home. 

When he stopped in some backyard and hosed himself off he heard screaming from the house above. He tried to hurry, but was also curious as to why people were even awake, better yet screaming, at that time of night. When he focused in, he saw the silhouettes of two of his school mates. Harry caught on to the fact that they were screaming about how the boy had cheated on the girl. The girl had shouted something along the lines of " _I wish you and your whole fucking group would be dead_ " and Harry received the idea.

He made a plan to do just what the girl had wished. He would kill the football team, or the majority of it. He'd killed a football player once; a college boy with big dreams and a rich family. The boy was walking back to campus after a late night hook-up with some high school girl. Harry made sure to give him a show, too. He made the boy scream until he was offering up things such as money, his car, even his own  _family_. Harry only laughed and strangled the boy, chuckling as his life trickled away. 

Harry hadn't quite figured out how he would do it yet, but he was going to. He knew that much.

Harry smiles as his mother kisses his cheek, wishing him a good first day back. Completely unaware of his after school hobbies. She rushes out the door, leaving her son to head for school.

Harry makes his way to his room, picking up his backpack and as he does. He makes his way to his dresser, pulling out his pocket knife, recently used, and shoves it in his pocket. 

He makes his way to the school, more eager than he has ever been. He runs up the steps, maneuvering past the many kids who are oblivious to his true identity. When he makes his way to his locker he see's two members of the football team already, lounging by the water fountain. He decides to befriend them to make them trust him. It shouldn't be hard, either.

Harry is a loved boy, you see. People all around him are intrigued by the mysterious boy with bubbly green eyes and shimmering lips. The girls swoon over him, some guys as well. They envy how he walks tall and proud; how he could have any person he wants but chooses to stay away from the crowd. He was even offered a free ride on the football team; they didn't even care if he was good or not. Girls throwing themselves at his feet. He's surprised, really, he's gotten away with so much. Thankful, though, in a way.

Harry clears his throat and tilts his head each way, popping his neck. He walks to the boys, greeting them with a traditional fist bump each. He can faintly remember, by their faces, their names from younger grades. Just faintly, though.

"Liam, right?" He asks, smiling his envious smile, his pearly teeth trancing the boy. He nods, returning the greeting. 

"How's it going, mate?" Liam questions, shoving his hands deep into his velvety varsity jacket pocket's. Harry examines his features, guessing he'll put up a weak fight, if any. Harry imagines wrapping his finger's around the boy's neck, digging his nails into the tender flesh. Blood seeping from the injury, causing the boy to cry out in pain. Snapping his neck, finally, ending the boy's suffering.

Harry tilts his head, smirking at his thoughts. "Great, great." Harry turns his attention to the other boy, deciding he'd like to get an idea about the shorter one.

When he meets the boy's eyes he entranced. He remembers the boy from when they were younger. He remembers him clearly. His eyes, a passageway to memories of black and white distortion. Louis is his name. Harry could never forget. The boy used to help Harry erase the marker board's when he would get in trouble when he was a child. They never spoke much, but when they did Harry savored every second of it. The boy's voice, smooth yet gravely. His skin, flawless compared to Harry's. 

Harry gives him a toothy smile, his eyes locked on the blue pools before him. He doesn't even bother to examine him; his imagine is so easily remembered in Harry's mind as if he were a picture that Harry cut from a scrapbook. The boy returns the smile, holding out his hand for a proper hand shake.

Harry takes it, smoothly, and grips it firmly. The boy's hand is so small compared to Harry's; so beautiful and delicate. Harry shakes it, quickly, and releases. When he does he can still feel Louis' skin on his own as if he never let go. It startles him.

"Louis," Louis informs, his smile blinding Harry momentarily. Harry doesn't like to be startled.

"Harry," he returns, his smile dropping. He turns on his heel, quickly, hurrying away down the hall without another word. He doesn't bother to look back at the boy.

Harry makes his way to the boy's bathroom, making sure the stalls are empty before locking the door behind him. He tosses his bag to the ground beside the door and walks to the final stall. He reaches to his pocket and pulls out his knife, flipping the familiar blade open with ease. He stares at it, noticing some dried blood he forgot to wash off days ago. He runs his thumb nail over it, watching as it crumbles to the tile below. 

He quickly raises his arm, yanking the sleeve up to reveal the small bandage that hardly covers half of his scarring injury. He sinks the knife into the skin beside it, wincing slightly when it first pierces, but he easily recovers as he drags the blade across the pale skin. He can't help but smile a bit when he watches the blood erupt from the new wound, prickling his skin as it rises.

Harry doesn't usually do it. When he does, injure himself, it's mostly to create enough blood to lure in his victims. On rare occasion, though, he'll do it for the hell of it. Sometimes he'll do it because he doesn't like the situation he's in; or he'll do it because he feels like it; and sometimes he'll do it just because he thirsts for the sight of blood.

It's an addiction to him, almost. The scent of blood, intriguing to him. The color, so divine. He craves it, he craves staring at it, he craves the way drips, so thick and lovely. 

Harry takes the bandage off of his scar and wipes the excess blood of off his skin. After holding it for a moment, he tugs his sleeve back to his wrist and tucks the knife away in his pocket. He makes his way to his bag and throws it over his shoulder, ready to continue his scheme.

Once he's in class he looks around, searching for any football players. He's already got two victims on his list, and he wants  _at least_  three more. He sees that he's got one footballer in his class. His name is Zayn, as Harry remembers from a time they had to pair up in gym. Harry wonders what the blood would look like, seeping from the boy's collarbone. His arms tied over his head and sweat dripping from his nose. Dirt covering his already tanned skin. A blade scraping over each of his abs, jamming into his flesh right blow his bellybutton.

Harry snickers under his breath, wishing he could kill the boy slowly. Vain boy, proud of his looks; Harry wants to force the boy to watch as he's turned from a gorgeous being into a lifeless corpse, his body hanging from a beam post.

"Pair up, class. You'll be creating a narrative story over anything you'd like. Make sure it's school appropriate, though. Once you've grouped up I'll tell you the details," his teacher announces, and Harry notices that he's been zoned out for over twenty seven minutes. He quickly spins around, his eyes narrowing in on the tanned skin boy. 

"Zayn," he says loudly over the voices filling the room. The boy looks to Harry and smiles, giving him a nod as if to say he'll partner with Harry. When the boy lifts his desk to carry it to Harry's side, Harry can't help but fill with excitement because his plan is going as he wants.

Zayn sets his desk down beside Harry and flips open his notepad of paper. Harry gives him a big smile, crossing his ankles under his desk. 

"So, Zayn," Harry begins, his head turned to face the teen. Zayn raises his eyebrows and replies a small, "yes, Harry?" They act as if they know one another. It makes Harry laugh.

"How was your break?" Small conversation is good, Harry thinks. Zayn tells him about how him and his family went camping in the woods and nearly got drowned by all the rain; he tells him about how him and Liam went and volunteered at the animal shelter. Harry sparks an idea. Two openly gay, straight A student's who volunteer and do good deeds, murdered along with friends. Good story line, really. Harry knows hardly anyone will suspect him, for why would a fellow male loving (half-male loving) boy with good grades murder his  _friends_?

They chit-chat about random things. Harry makes up a story about how he slept all fall break and played video games. It's nt far from the truth, honestly. He played games, just not video games. More of ' _murdering people for fun_ ' games.

The teacher finally begins her lecture. Harry hardly pays attention, however, for he is to focused on imagining how he'll kill his fellow students. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos deeply appreciated. xo


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets an annoying girl. They talk about Harry's not-so-existent sex life. Harry get's stuck in a situation with a certain blue eyed beauty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short. Please let me know what you think. :)

Harry makes his way out of the school, his history book and English journal in hand. He's focused on his plan more than anything, though, and his school supplies are hardly a necessity to his life at the moment. He can't just toss them, however. He does need to keep his grades up in order to stay undetected. Plus, homework is a good way to befriend people. A study group, Harry thinks, is exactly what he needs. He just needs his ever so friendly companions.

Harry turns quickly before stepping onto the sidewalk, realizing that the football team has practice. He all but practically runs into a body, stopping right as they land against him. He would fall over if he were any other person, but since he's had years of lifting bodies and doing tasks of the sort, he's become used to struggle. So, the body merely runs into him, stumbling backwards when Harry doesn't budge. 

When the person, a girl, regains her balance she reaches forward and grips at Harry's arms. 

"I didn't see you!" She basically shouts, her voice peppy and full of cheer. "Good thing you didn't fall or we'd both be on the ground!" She begin's laughing and Harry joins in, curious about the new, rather annoying if he may add, person. He's never seen her. Not once. Suspicion fills Harry and he tightens his grip on the books.

"'M Harry," Harry informs, a wicked grin spreading across his face. The girl, still holding his arms, smiles deeply and Harry wonders how her face isn't cramping up.

"I'm Carina," the girl tells. Harry nods.

"So. You're new?" Harry asks. "How'd you know?!" Is his reply, and he stops himself from cringing at the slight screech in her voice.

"Well," Harry begins, placing his hand over her's and lifting it off himself with a wink, "I've never seen your beautiful face around here.

The girl giggles and smiles at her feet, her cheeks blushing. The way people are so easily weakened by a few simple, meaningless words astonishes Harry. 

"I moved here over the break, actually. I'm looking for my friend right now, but I can't seem to find him! I was just going to walk home alone," she tells Harry. She probably shouldn't have, but nonetheless. 

"What's his name, dear? Maybe I could help you find him. I would offer a walk home, but, I'm headed back to the school for a moment."

"Louis Tomlinson. He's my new neighbor and he agreed to help me around school my first week or so."

Harry's smile drops at the name. Of course it would be one of his targets. Then again, it could be an opportunity. Maybe he'd even make Louis watch as he murdered the girl, her annoying screams filling Louis' ears as Harry rips her apart, limb by limb.

Realizing that Louis would be at the football field, where he was headed, Harry smiled at the girl and informed, "I know where he is. I'm headed there now."

The girl begins clapping her hands together like some cliche spoiled actress in the 90's. Harry refuses the urge to cringe, once again, and lets the girl wrap her frail around around his. "Take me?" She asks, and Harry nods, turning his head away from her and back to the school.

The whole walk the girl is going on about some dog that her family found and Harry is trying his best not to physically murder her right in the school. Literally.

When he finally gets to the football field and sees all the players, some to be his future victims, he smiles and releases the girls arm. The girl pecks his cheek and runs off towards Louis, but Harry pays no mind, for he is to focused on choosing players. 

He spots a group of boys already running, Zayn being one of them, Liam being beside him. He scans over the boys, stopping when he stand beside the bleacher's bottom row. He see's a boy, his hair the same as Liam's, but his skin tone just lighter than Zayn's. Harry decides against him, feeling as though he's to unpopular to cause a scene about. Call him old fashioned, but targeting the popular kids makes Harry smile. He loves the challenge.

Harry is snapped out of his gaze when he feels a hand on his arm. He turns his head, Caroline by his side.

"This lovely fellow brought me here," she says to someone. When Harry sees that it's Louis he smiles and nods. 

"Caroline, here, was a tad lost. Decided I'd be a helpful citizen and bring her back to ya'."

Louis laughs and smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well thank you, H," Louis says. Harry isn't sure about the nickname, but he makes no objections. He simply returns the laugh, unsure why.

"It's not a problem."

"Well, I've got practice until five, Care. If you'd be willing to wait maybe we could grab a pizza later?" Louis turns to Harry and adds, "if you like you're invited as well."

Harry thinks for a moment, but with no hesitation replies a small, "I'd hate to impose," knowing that Louis would insist on him joining.

That he does, his hands coming together in praying form, his voice replying, "Harry, please come! I'd love to hear more about you and your whole bad-boy lifestyle. Maybe even hear about how you manage to get so much muscle." The last part makes Harry falter. He only rolls his eyes and adds a smile, nodding hsi head.

"Thank you. You've made the right choice," he turns to Caroline, "How about you?" Caroline nods and gives a quick, "if my mom will let me. I'm not sure how she'd feel about me going out with two very attractive teenage boys." She giggles and Louis laughs. Harry does the same, not wanting to seem rude to the people he's going to kill. Irony, he thinks.

When Louis walks back to his team after giving Harry and Caroline a quick wave and a subtle wink, Harry makes his way up the bleacher, stopping halfway up. Caroline follows. Harry really wishes she hadn't. 

When she sits it's about two inches to close for Harry's liking and he's already against the bleacher's so he's not going anywhere. Caroline keeps her eye on the field, eyes trailing the boy's who run.

"So," she says after a moment, breaking the silence. "You've got a girlfriend, am I correct?"

Harry turns to her, his eyes partly squinted and his mind catching to where she's going. 

"I'm gay, actually," Harry tells her and she gasps, unintentionally of course. Harry isn't lying, truly. Half-gay, he thinks. It's not that he's ever been with anyone, except for once. A boy who he killed when he was fifteen. The boy had asked him for dinner, and Harry being the curious person he is, accepted the invitation, not even sure if he swung that way. When the boy took him out it wasn't to dinner like they planned; it was to his older brother's house where three college guys, one being his brother, had their way with Harry without consent. When Harry finally got home, already having been warned that if he spoke a word there would be consequences, he sat in his bed crying. It was the first time he'd cried since being a child and the last time he would cry (so far) in life. He snuck out a week later and snuck up on each of the boys, one at a time, killing them tortuously and slow.

Harry had decided that didn't count and he forgot about it as best as could.

So he stayed in the category undecided, as far as sexuality. Sexuality didn't matter to him all that much. The only reason he even thinks about it occasionally is because he's aware that sex is a natural part of life that every person (most every person) does in life. 

"I- Wow," Caroline says, placing each of her hands on either of her knees. Harry chuckles, patting her back. 

"Sorry, dear."

Caroline only rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "I've always wanted a gay best friend," she says and Harry immediately bites his tongue and clenches his fist. He didn't think it was possible to hate someone with such a passion, but lovely Caroline has proven him wrong.

"Boyfriend, then?" Caroline asks. "And tell me about the boys here. Any I should keep an eye out for? Since you're, y'know, you get to tell me all about the hotties here."

Harry forces himself to smile, no matter how painful, and pushes out a fake laugh.

"No boyfriend," god help him, "and I don't pay attention to the guys in this school. I don't  _do_  dating."

Caroline shakes her head and Harry scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. "Completely unacceptable," she tells.

"We're getting you a boyfriend, Harry." Harry really wants to hit her. Or kill her. Both, actually. 

"No thank's. I'll pass. More for you, anyways." Harry faces back forward and his eyes land on Louis who is doing push up's beside Zayn and some blonde boy. 

He doesn't let himself look any longer and turns back to Caroline who is staring at Harry with her lips slightly parted as if her jaw was dropped.

"What?' Harry asks, confused as to what he's done.

Caroline only shakes her head and smirks facing the field. 

 

~~~

When the practice finally ends Harry has his homework finished and more knowledge in his brain than he would like about how Caroline lost her virginity to a boy two years younger than her in her old school's locker room. 

Louis jogs up the stairs, sweat dripping off his forehead, his back and under arms covered, his face and skin tinged a slight red. Harry pays no attention to the way Louis' muscles flex at every slight movement due to the workout just endured, and he definitely doesn't gulp unintentionally because he's turned on. Which he's not. 

"I just need to shower," Louis says when he finally reaches Caroline and Harry. "If you want you guys can wait in the newspaper club's room. There's no one in there at this time in the afternoon. Or you could wait in the hall. It wont take me but ten minutes, top."  
  


Harry and Caroline decide on waiting in the hall. More of Caroline's choice. But still.

As they wait it's silent and Harry is thankful because Caroline is very loud and open considering they've just met. 

After about five minutes Caroline's phone starts ringing a rather annoying, just like her, song by Justin Timberlake and she's blushing because it's loud and echoing off the walls. She quickly opens it and stars talking.

"Mom, I'm at the school. No, I don't have detention, it's my first day. I'm with friends. Louis. And Harry. He's gay, though, so don't worry. What? No. Mom! Please! Fine." After hearing her conversation go on, her pausing every few moments, her mother speaking, she hangs up.

"I have to go home," Caroline informs, standing up and patting down her skirt. Harry does the same. Not patting down his skirt. He doesn't have a skirt. He pats down his pants.

"Tell Louis I'll see him tomorrow," Caroline says, stomping angrily down the hall, leaving Harry to wait for Louis.

Harry waiting for Louis. Harry going to eat pizza with Louis. Alone. Harry decides that since he's going to be alone with Louis, and the other pizza-eaters, of course, he'll focus on Louis as a person to kill and  _not_ a person who he wants to do intimate things with. Which he doesn't. Never. Pfft.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: fireplacelou.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: @fireplacelou_
> 
> Apologies for the lack of proofreading. xo


End file.
